


This Time I'll Get It Right

by saturnine23sunshine45



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, One Shot Collection, Southside Serpent Betty Cooper, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnine23sunshine45/pseuds/saturnine23sunshine45
Summary: “Did you get brain damage when Penny sabotaged your bike? Or do you have a plan that doesn’t involve starting a turf war?” Maybe Jughead did need to see that Betty was alive. But not just to make sure she was breathing. Maybe he needed to know why she left him at all.Riverdale was a town of horrors, but it was where Betty and Jughead found each other. Through mysteries and pain, their bond is undeniable. In any universe. Betty and Jughead keep finding each other. No matter what timeline, eventually they get it right. A series of alternate universe one-shots.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Kudos: 18
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a brain exercise and has turned into something altogether. Ultimately, this is going to be a multi-chapter. Each chapter will be a different alternative universe version of Bughead. This is shamelessly taken from the world of The Walking Dead, nothing is meant to offend. Title taken from Blink 182

The sickness has run rampant through the camp. And all the doctors were dead.

All the camp had was the head of a retired biker gang and some refugees from a fascist camp. Jughead Jones didn’t know how he came to be at this place, watching his father try to resuscitate lost causes. Before the dead started walking, FP Jones had been in and out of jail and only sometimes made it to AA. Sometimes it felt as though the apocalypse was made for FP. Here was the only place he was able to overcome his struggles.

Jughead felt more lost than ever. They were lucky to find the ventilators. Those who didn’t survive the virus would die. Once dead, it was only a matter of time before a new virus took hold and they started to walk again. Not sentient, but not truly dead either.

“What are you standing there for, boy?”

Jughead ran to his father’s side. The only ones who had any medical experience were quarantined on the far edge of camp. It was better that way. FP had learned how to work the pump but that was the extent of it. All Jughead knew was to come when his father called. It was the only thing that was keeping him going. The virus hadn’t affected them both entirely yet. FP seemed more vital than ever, rushing to those who were coughing up blood. Jughead felt weaker by the second. He would say he had a theory, but he knew FP wouldn’t hear it.

Ever since he left the healthy side of camp he felt weaker and weaker. The sweats had come and he knew his face was drawn of blood. He knew it was only a matter of time before he needed a ventilator himself. Already he could feel his weak lungs struggling to breathe. It was the distance from the other side of camp, not the virus itself. If he even mentioned that to his father, FP would steamroll right over it. They had people to save and there was no use of superstition where they were.

Jughead tried to muffle his coughed as he performed chest compressions. FP was determined, but Jughead knew he still noticed. After Jellybean, Jughead was all his father had left. The patient coughed up the remains of the blood and expired. Jughead knew all his father saw was Jellybean. He let himself collapse next his father, finally able to rest. He wasn’t coughing up blood yet. At least he had that. But he yearned for a time when he shared a bedroll with someone else and the only real fear was the dead trying to bite him.

This was worse.

“Five minutes,” FP said, cleaning off his hands. “We have to make the rounds.”

Jughead bit back his sarcastic _yes, sir,_ he had prepared behind his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed that one vice. Sarcasm seemed to be a thing of the past. Still, FP looked at his son when he didn’t respond. FP didn’t have a soft bedside manner, but Jughead was used to that.

“What will you do when it’s me on the cot?” FP had been powering through saving as many lives as he could. There hasn’t been any time to dwell on the possibilities.

But there was a very real possibility that Jughead wouldn’t survive. He wasn’t surprised when FP’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Don’t ever let me hear you talking like that again, boy,” FP warned. “You have a family to go back to.”

Jughead turned his face away from the searing look from his father. He couldn’t think about the other side of camp. Not anymore.

* * *

For the third week in a row, Betty woke up alone. There hadn’t been much space to begin with. But here it felt more desolate than ever. She knew that she was lucky. She wasn’t one of the sick ones. She could maintain the perimeter with Archie and survive the onslaught. But it wasn’t enough. That was not the only thing that Archie wouldn’t understand. Since Fred had been bitten, it was difficult to explain her particular predicament. He wouldn't understand. She was one of the lucky ones. They had fallen into a routine of walking the fence and obliterating any of the dead that tried to broach it.

For most people, that would be enough. She supposed that she was just selfish.

Like normal, Archie was waiting for her. Betty found herself once again sweeping the surroundings for Veronica. More and more Veronica abstained from assisting in their duties. Betty missed her friend, but seeing her still made her stomach sour. How she was squandering having her family around. How she wans’t grateful.

Still, Betty asked about her as a courtesy.

“Veronica’s fine,” Archie said monotonously. Just like he did every day. It was their routine. Archie opened his mouth again and already Betty felt herself tense instinctually.

It wasn’t for the dead one that was approaching the fence. Archie followed her gaze at the moaning, gasping corpse. She closed the distance quickly, thrusting her bowie knife into its brain. It fell away easily.

This was a different sort of uneasiness. The thing that seemed to be happening ever since Jughead had been contaminated.

“I just wish…” Archie would trail off and she felt his eyes on her. She had hoped the dead would distract him from his trailing thoughts.

He was thinking too much lately.

“It’s lonely sometimes,” he finished. Archie’s eyes always stayed on her too long. There had been a rushed kiss before the Serpents had rescued them from her father’s compound. But that was before.

She wished that Archie would look away.

“I’m sure you understand that,” Archie finished.

She did. Of course she did. But Archie had Veronica. She had no one.

“Do you have to go?” Archie asked.

Betty’s heart skipped. If she looked in the sky, the sun was almost at its highest. With time being meaningless now, that was really the only way to gauge if you were late.

Betty had a meeting.

“Yes.” She hope she didn’t sound too relieved. But it had been a week and it was time.

“See you soon,” Archie said.

Betty tried to not hurry too fast, but she couldn’t help it. Jogging came easily and soon she was at the partitioner that separated the sick from the healthy. Maybe she was early. No one was waiting to greet her.

There was Plexiglas wedged between the chain-link fence to create a supposed air of decorum and distance. It was all a lie and that’s why you had to be at least three feet from the partition and only able to come once a week.

Even that was pushing it.

Betty waited.

She should have known if Jughead were coming, it wouldn’t take this long.

“Hey, Betty,” FP said as he walked up to the fence.

Betty tried to school her features. Panic had stricken her at first. But FP was composed and had something happened, she knew that he would not be. But the fact remained. Jughead wasn’t here.

“Where’s Jug?” Betty asked, trying to keep her voice even. “He said he would meet me.”

That had been a week ago. It had been the first time they had seen each other since Jughead had been quarantined. FP himself hadn’t been contaminated but as soon as Jughead grew pale, FP joined him in quarantine.

Betty was now wishing she had done the same.

“He’s resting,” FP assured her. Betty knew well enough that he had practiced his delivery. FP never sounded so sure of everything. He must have seen her expression. “Betty. He’s okay. It was a hard day today. He just tired himself out.”

Betty tried to conjure up Jughead’s face the last time she saw him. She could see it well enough, but it seemed that it was just an echo of a memory. It was his voice that she missed. The sarcastic lilt and dry comments.

Somehow, that’s what she really missed.

“If I could just—”

“No,” FP said firmly. He knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to jump the fence and just see him. “He’ll be up and around. Come visit in a couple days.”

They both knew that had as much likelihood as FP letting her rush the barrier right now. Even trying to think of Jughead weak was painful.

The first time she saw him, he had driven a motorcycle through her father’s barricade, a .22 rifle slung across his back. It was in the early days then, and he still wore his Serpents jacket from a time long dead. They had been children then. But she still took his hand and let him sling her across his bike like that .22.

Later he found her an AR. That one was much better.

“Can you tell him…” Betty didn’t want to leave it at that. She didn’t know what to say.

_She didn’t know the point anymore?_

_Don’t die?_

_Archie was making her feel even more lonely?_

Everything sounded stupid in her mind.

“I’ll tell him,” FP said, assuring.

He was already turning his back.

“FP,” Betty said. Even this amount of contact was comforting. She didn’t want it to end. “Would you tell me? If…”

She couldn’t even say it.

“He’s not dead.” That sounded like the FP she remembered. A threatening growl. And she knew that he was telling the truth. At the mere thought of his only son dead, FP was furious.

“Thank you,” Betty said.

That’s all she could do. If she thought about not having the chance to tell Jughead about everything, her heart gave way. He had to know. Her morning sickness was already hitting. She had planned to tell him today.

He had to live.

* * *

“You got a strong girl, out there.”

Jughead was having enough trouble standing on his own. He was steadying himself against the brick wall, trying to calm his head.

He wanted to smile at his father’s voice. He could almost picture Betty’s determined face. Digging her heels in and fingering that bowie knife. He knew she wouldn’t take it easily. But it was for the best.

“Thank you,” Jughead said as his father rounded the corner. “If she saw me like this…”

“She nearly jumped the barrier as it was.”

The last time Jughead had truly smiled was the last time he saw her. Her face was dirty, thick chunks of blonde hair falling out of her hair tie. But she always encouraged a smile out of him, when no one else could.

“I’ll bet,” Jughead said.

That was the last time he smiled for a while. A cough ripped through him with wheezing force. He tasted copper on his tongue and suddenly he was regretting not seeing her at all.

He really regretted it when he hit the ground. His father’s voice was loud and intelligible. Jughead conjured Betty’s face and the first time he saw her.

If this was the end, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

* * *

Hal Cooper started to call himself The Black Hood three months after the dead began to rise. At that point he had surrounded the town of Riverdale in walls. His wife and two daughters were at his side.

Polly fell to disease.

No one really had a beat on what happened to Alice.

No one but Betty. It took a long time for Betty to say much of anything. But how the Serpents found her, that wasn’t too much of a surprise. The town of Riverdale dressed strictly in black. If Betty was seen outside the walls, she wore a black wig and carried a machete. It had been a long time since Betty had been let outside the walls. After Alice and Polly, Hal kept his only daughter by his side. She was in charge of discipline for those in Riverdale who disobeyed the Black Hood. But even at the time of Riverdale’s liberation, most of the townspeople weren’t sure if Betty really existed at all. All they had was the Black Hood’s reign of terror.

Toni Topaz lobbed a homemade pipe bomb over the wall. She knew someone on the inside. A relative of the Coopers who was not important enough to be kept track of. But important enough that most likely she wasn’t dead. Toni insisted on saving her and only had Jughead to back her. Once the serpent prince was on board, FP and the rest of the snakes had to follow. It turned less into a covert mission and more a blitz.

The dead were everywhere. Jughead had about enough when he saw Toni escape with a statuesque redhead. Just her type. He could have left. Should have. But he didn’t. Something transfixed him.

The Black Hood lay dead from the pipe bomb that had almost killed his daughter as well.

She was covered in soot, her blonde hair singed and her hands were covered in blood. Jughead hadn’t stopped to think if she was on the wrong side or not. He just knew she was lost. There was a tall redheaded boy trying to pull her ot her feet but she wouldn’t go. Jughead kicked his bike to life and sped towards them. The boy jumped out of his way immediately. Jughead flipped the kickstand and knelt by her side.

“He’s dead,” Jughead said sternly. She was in shock and he had to get her to her feet.

“She won’t come,” the boy said.

“Go,” Jughead said as the kid gestured towards him. “Run towards the motorcycles. They’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hesitated but took off after a moment. Jughead put his hand to the girl’s shoulder.

“That’s my dad,” she said. 

This was the daughter of the Black Hood.

 _Black Betty_. The name echoed in his mind. But she didn’t look like a protégé. She just looked alone.

“Not anymore,” Jughead said. “If you want to live, we have to leave right now.”

“My family’s dead.”

Her green eyes were blank and emotionless.

“We’ll take care of you,” Jughead said. And after a moment, “I’ll take care of you.”

Something sparked in her then. And he knew they were almost home free.

“What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth Cooper,” she said. “What’s yours.”

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones III,” he said. “Please just call me Jughead.”

When she smiled he knew there was nothing wrong with her. Only that everyone who was supposed to love her had abandoned her.

“Hop on, Elizabeth Cooper,” Jughead said. She was on her feet quickly. When her arms encircled his waist, he felt it too. He wasn’t sure what it was quite yet.

He would when he was coughing up blood, trying to conjure this moment again. It was the moment when everything changed.

* * *

This time, Betty jumped. The gunshots had been a warning. There was an outbreak. Not just the virus. The dead had found themselves into quarantine. Betty knew that if he died, she would die. She should have died five years ago in her father’s camp. Along with her sister and mother.

She still felt woozy, bile scorching the back of her tongue. But this was the moment. It was time to go. She slung the AR over her shoulder. She almost made it, too. Betty was at the partition when Archie’s hand slung her back.

“You can’t go in there.”

“You can’t be serious,” Betty replied. She let that marinate with Archie. As he stopped to think, she took the opportunity to reach the partition again.

“Wait!”

“Go back, Arch,” Betty said. “I’m going in.”

“He’s dead, Betty.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s crawling with the dead,” Archie said. “You have to come to terms—”

“Not until I see it,” Betty said.

His eyes were hopeless and a part of her did feel sorry. Somewhere in there, her best friend still lingered. But he had been erased by the world they lived in.

“Arch,” she said. “Just go back to Veronica.”

“I can’t.”

His fingers were grasping at hers. Before she knew what she was doing, she brought the AR hard against his temple. He fell down the ground easily.

It was easy.

After that, it was only a few strides until she was over the wall.

* * *

His face was white like death. She should have been used to that look. The dead were running around all the time. Blood ran from his mouth and if she had to imagine it, she could see him rising. A walking, moaning corpse. FP may not have lied to her earlier, but he sure as hell was withholding too. She refused to let the sob escape her throat. This wasn't the time. It wasn't over yet.

“What do I do?”

FP looked regretful that she was there. But not as much as he would regret losing his son. FP put the ventilator in Jughead’s mouth and instructed her to squeeze. She willed his lungs to breathe, to ignore the blood worming its way through his system. She would make this right. He didn’t come all that way to pick her up from the rubble for this to be just nothing.

For him to be nothing.

“Come _on_ , boy.”

Betty never heard FP so distraught. Jughead was his. His flesh and blood, his own. Jughead was FP and without him, FP would fall. Betty knew that to be true.

Jughead’s eyes fluttered open. There was no recognition there. There was nothing. Betty should have brought the breath of life.

She had no idea anything could hurt this much.

* * *

“… the most stubborn boy in this world.” Jughead recognized his father’s voice well enough.

But he was alone. Gone were the concrete structures of quarantine. His eyes recognized his tent. The one he hadn't seen in over a month. He struggled too sit up. Betty's duffle was in the corner. If he opened it he knew he would see her things folded neatly, like they were still in civilization. Somehow, she still needed a sense of order. Jughead cringed at the sound of his own cough. But there was no blood this time.

He was home.

But Betty and FP in the same space was bad. That meant lines had merged. Everything was over. 

The flap of the tent ripped open. She looked furious with him. "Lie down."

_Yes, ma'am._

He didn't really have a choice. All his strength at been expended. He fell back onto his elbows, wincing. Her cool fingers felt his forehead. 

"Do I look that bad?" he asked. Her refusal to look at him was disturbing. "What happened?"

"You died," she said quietly.

"What happened to quarantine?"

"Will you just relax?" she asked in exasperation.

"No," he said simply. "What happened?"

She finally relented. "It's gone."

He felt his breath quicken in his chest.

"There was an outbreak," she continued. "We had to burn it down."

It's why she smelled smoky. The charred flesh of the dead.

"I'm flattered you considered me worth saving."

Her eyes flashed in anger. She was easy to provoke today.

"You don't know how stupid you sound." Her bark was worse than her bite. She finally eased down next to him. He could lean his face on her shoulder if she let him. She was splattered in guts, hair singed, and hands smelling of gunpowder. He almost wished he could have seen it. "You're not allowed to die."

"Now you tell me."

Finally she smiled. He could feel her heart jumping through her shirt. He nestled his face there. Her fingers settling in his hair. There was a roar outside of the tent, a sound of at least ten motorcycles.

He never thought he'd hear that sound again. He looked up at her imploringly. "Where are we?"

"Home, Jug." Her voice was soft.

If he had opened the flap of the tent he would have seen their home base of the White Wyrm. The only remnants of Riverdale that still existed. But he didn't need to. He laid back down, content with listening to the calming beats of her heart. Safety wasn't a thing that seemed to exist anymore.

But already, he felt his breathing become easier.


	2. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His jacket was familiar. A second skin that he didn’t realize he had missed so much. That was the first bout of realization of the night. The second was that he missed something else even more. He didn’t want to, of course. That was the whole point.
> 
> Missing her was counterproductive. He had made a promise to himself to never let anything breach his heart again. He made a pact.
> 
> But when Betty Cooper went missing, all of that went out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hadn't really meant to be an ongoing series, but here we are. Working out some season four issues and using AU to do it. This was only tangentially inspired by season one of True Detective. In the fact that there was a biker gang in it. 
> 
> These are going to be unrelated one-shots so I hope you enjoy. Without further ado, Southside Jughead and Southside Betty being extra.

The last time he had been to the Whyte Wyrm, he didn’t remember having to knock. The point of the Serpents headquarters was the luxury of strolling right through. When he had his Southside Serpent jacket he was treated with respect as the Snake Prince. It had been a long time since then. For months, his leather jacket laid on a chair in his room. There were moments where he couldn't bear to look at it. Tonight was different.

Tonight when he threw his arms through the sleeves, he was home. The jacket was familiar. A second skin that he didn’t realize he had missed so much. That was the first bout of realization of the night. The second was that he missed something else even more. He didn’t want to, of course. That was the whole point. Missing her was counterproductive. He had made a promise to himself to never let anything breach his heart again. He made a pact.

But when Betty Cooper went missing, all of that went out the window.

So Jughead Jones strode with purpose up to the doors of the Whyte Wyrm. He was relieved to see Sweet Pea and Fangs, though disturbed to not recognize anyone else wearing serpent marks. He used to know everyone’s preferred names, their proclivities, and confidence that they would have his back. He knew he couldn’t expect that anymore. Jughead approached the doors of the bar. A flash of recognition crossed Fang’s face but Sweet Pea’s eyes were cold. Jughead didn’t blame him. Sweet Pea was never easy to trust and forgiveness was even harder. Jughead steeled himself as he approached the double doors.

“Been awhile,” Fangs offered, almost a hand in friendship. That was something at least.

“She’s not here,” Sweet Pea cut in. Jughead didn’t have hopes of winning him over tonight.

Or ever, if he was being honest.

“Toni in?” Jughead asked instead.

If anyone would grant him an audience, it was her. But even that seemed like a slim chance. Fangs and Sweet Pea exchanged glances. They weren’t expecting Jughead’s Hail Mary. Right out of the gate, he was calling all his cards. Toni owed him and there was no way to refuse a favor from him.

“She’s not here, either,” Sweet Pea finally said.

Jughead knew that was bullshit and found this charade to be tiresome. Quickly enough, he edged between the two makeshift bouncers and found a steady grip on the door handle. He was able to yank it free before Sweet Pea put a hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t violent. There was reassurance there. When Jughead turned to look at him, he never expected to see softness in his eyes.

“You know she’s not in there,” Sweet Pea said earnestly. There was no question of the _she_ he was referring to. It sure wasn't Toni. “What do you even think you’ll find in there?”

Jughead shrugged him off. The simple answer was that he sure as hell didn’t know. But he had to try. Sweet Pea’s hand dropped off and Jughead was finally inside. When his father was Serpent King, everything seemed to be for the taking. Girls came easy and friends seemed to last forever. Even Betty Cooper. Someone who you never would have thought would be caught dead in the Whyte Wyrm. But her mother’s legacy carried weight. Betty danced the serpent dance and was accepted widely for a time.

Jughead hadn’t seen her in three months. Despite everything she put him through, he couldn’t help the urge. To find, to investigate, to be sure that she was alright. He knew he wouldn’t find her here. She probably wouldn’t expect him to even come looking after their last encounter. A concise phone call essentially telling him they were over. But this was their legacy, too. The history between them. He couldn’t just ignore that. Scanning the bar, his disappointment was tenfold. There were even more serpents in here that he didn’t recognize than he did. Even Cheryl’s trademark red jacket was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you have brain damage, Jones?”

A flash of familiar pink hair and Jughead knew well enough that the voice was coming about a foot beneath his eye line. Toni glared at him accusatorily. Finally a friendly face.

Close enough.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Jughead responded.

Toni was never afraid of everything. But tonight she threw a hesitant look over her shoulder. As though it was illegal for Jughead to be here.

“Aren’t you going to say you’re happy to see me?” he asked.

Toni answered by pulling his arm along, dragging him across the bar. “Come on.”

Jughead allowed it, only because at least someone doesn’t want to spit in his face.

“You’re an idiot to be here.”

“Noted,” Jughead grumbled. Maybe he mistook her affection for him. Toni stopped in a secluded corner in the back where she had a clear view of the entire bar. And all the exits.

“What are you doing here?”

Jughead leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. This wasn’t a time to be coy.

“You really have to ask me that?”

“She’s not here.”

“So everyone keeps saying,” Jughead said bitterly.

“I don’t even know why you’re looking,” Toni said. “After what she did.”

Jughead was sick of being reminded. That wasn’t the point.

“I have to know,” he said. “Wouldn’t you?”

More hypothetical than anything, it still made Toni think. The lengths she had gone to for her own relationship.

“You won’t have much luck here,” Toni said. “You ran out of friends quick.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You think I know where she is?”

“Maybe not,” Jughead said. “But her cousin might.”

Toni’s face fell. Betrayal in its own right.

“Jughead,” Toni said warningly. “She’s in trouble.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Jughead growled.

Toni let out a sigh of exasperation. “Don’t you get it? That’s the point. You shouldn’t be in trouble too.”

It was a little too late for that. Exactly two years to be exact. The moment daughter of famous Alice Smith watched Jughead from her dance on the stage. A snake through and through. No matter what she did after that, he would be hard-pressed to let her go.

“You know,” Jughead said. Toni knew everything. “What did Cheryl say?”

“Nothing that everyone doesn’t already know.”

“Everyone except me, evidently,” Jughead said. “Is it Archie?” 

The thought of the two of them together still turned Jughead's stomach to acid. Toxic and full of turmoil.

A look of annoyance crossed her face. “I don’t have time for your testosterone-fueled fight. I don’t care where Archie is and I didn’t think to ask.”

Fair enough.

“It’s something worse,” Jughead said.

Toni groaned. “Cheryl is going to kill me.”

“Then I’ll talk to Cheryl myself.” Cheryl was always easy to find in a crowd.

Toni pulled him back quickly.

“Wait,” she said. “You have to trust me on this. You don’t want to find her.”

“You should know me better than that.”

“Unfortunately,” she replied. She took another hurried look around the bar. He was starting to think that this had more to do than a couple of different serpent recruits. “Promise me you’ll be safe, Jones. There are Ghoulies everywhere.”

“She's still with the Ghoulies?”

He hated the look on Toni’s face. Pitying. The lovesick fool.

“I don’t know where Betty is,” Toni said. “But I have an idea of who she’s with.”

_Please don’t say it._

He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Penny Peabody,” Toni said. “No one has seen her since she got into Penny’s car.”

There it was. The worst scenario. Betty’s betrayal with Archie seemed almost quaint. He didn’t know what he planned. He would find out that Betty had really chosen Archie over him and that would be it. He would have left it at that. For good, he would know that Betty had chosen the more together, brighter, sustainable person to be with. And he would move on.

This was worse.

“How could she be so stupid?” Jughead asked himself more than Toni. But never abiding truly by Jughead’s feelings alone, Toni spoke the truth.

“Because, you idiot,” she said, “she was trying to protect you.”

That was the real bombshell. Not that he would let himself believe it.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Says who?”

Toni’s silence was deafening. It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

“Glad to have you on my side.” Jughead tried to shoulder past her. She was stronger than she looked.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked. And then more to herself, 

“If you’re not going to help me—”

“I am trying to help you,” Toni said. “Help you stay alive. If you follow her, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Not exactly,” Toni said. Something behind her eyes shifted. Toni wasn't just looking out for the exits. Her back was to the office door that happened to be slightly ajar. Jughead raised his head a fraction of an inch and saw the flash of red hair. 

“You have to promise not to freak out,” she warned.

But she knew he couldn’t do that. He had already passed Toni and slammed the door open. Archie was on the floor. His face was more purple than not, covered in bruises and lacerations. There may have been a time where Jughead would have been concerned. All he felt was that familiar thrill that he was on the right track. That faded quickly. And he just saw the face of an alleged friend who betrayed him. Archie’s eyes widened in what could have been fear. Jughead didn’t think that Archie would ever be afraid of him. But he was aware enough to know that Jughead wouldn’t be happy to see him.

Toni followed Jughead quickly. Her hand was raised above his shoulder, as though preparing to hold him back. Jughead felt paralyzed. Rage, confusion, regret, he was feeling it all. He didn’t know which to address first.

“Jughead.” Archie’s voice was thick with pain. He was holding his ribs and Jughead figured there was more bruising where he couldn’t see it. He willed himself to remember a time where Archie in pain would elicit any kind of response.

He wished he felt something. He really did.

“We found him outside,” Toni said. “He was alone.”

That answered question one. But there were many more.

Like:

 _Why_?

_How could you do this?_

_Couldn’t you think for once?_

“Jughead, I am so sorry,” Archie struggled to get out. His breathing was stunted. Jughead was sure he had at least one cracked rib. Jughead knew enough that when dealing with the Ghoulies, you reap what you sew. But that didn’t explain why he was alone.

“Did you leave her with them?” Jughead finally asked.

“You have to know-” Archie started.

Jughead cut him off. “Just say it.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go down like this,” Archie said.

Finally, it spurned a response in Jughead. He lunged for his former best friend, grabbing his collar. Archie didn’t flinch away from him. He only closed his eyes, as though he were expecting it.

“Where is she?” Jughead demanded.

“She’s still with them.”

Jughead released him as quickly as he could.

“So you leave with my girlfriend to mix drugs with a rival gang,” Jughead said. “And then things get tough and you just leave her there.”

“She asked me to,” Archie said defensively.

Jughead didn’t know what to believe. Everything Betty had done in the past few months had been conflicting, confusing, and outright out of character.

“To save you, I’m sure,” Jughead said bitterly.

“She had to stay with Penny,” Archie said. “They would have done worse if she didn't."

“Poor you.” Jughead knew he sounded like a scorned husband. He felt entitled to it.

“I know I fucked up,” Archie said.

Jughead bit back a retort. This was going nowhere.

“You left me,” Jughead said. “And you took her with you.”

“He doesn’t know anything else.” Jughead almost forgot Toni was there. “Please just—”

“Let it go?” Jughead asked Toni. He turned back to Archie. “He knows one more thing. Where are the Ghoulies?”

“Don’t go after them,” Archie said. “Please. If you believe anything, believe I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Jughead said. “Where are they?”

“If I tell you,” Archie said, “would that make it better?”

“No,” Jughead said.

Archie told him anyway. There was never any doubt about that.

* * *

The Ghoulies hadn’t changed their protocol in the last couple of years. They were still on the edge of town, bordering Greendale and Riverdale. Their drug operation had grown. A commune that even rivaled the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead planned to go there quietly. He just had to see her. Toni warned him not to be a white knight. That was Archie’s territory. One of the reasons Betty chose him, even after everything they had been through, Jughead was sure. Cheryl was the first to volunteer to come along.

That was a nonstarter.

To Cheryl's credit, she was the only one who Betty was confiding in anymore. Especially after the Archie debacle, Betty was low on female friends. Cheryl considered blood to be paramount of friendship. Betty fit the bill. She received a covert note that confirmed Archie’s story of Betty's whereabouts. But Jughead wasn't about to let the most conspicuous person in Riverdale tag along. Not when he didn't expect to come back.

This was it. He would find the right trailer, confirm that Betty was, in fact, alive, and go on with his life knowing that she had to live with her own insane decisions. Even when they were dating he wouldn’t have presumed to tell her what to do. He wasn’t about to start now. But like any plan of Jughead’s, it didn’t go as intended. When he arrived, there were more trailers than he even could have imagined. They spanned across the treeline, as far as the eye could see. Pounding on every single one wasn’t exactly realistic. Penny Peabody still had a bounty on his head. She wasn't known to stop after one murder attempt. 

That night he thought he would wake up to see Betty at his side. Instead, she had hightailed it to enemy territory and that was the end of that.

“Did you get brain damage when Penny sabotaged your bike?” Cheryl had asked when he refused to let her come along.“Or do you have a plan that doesn’t involve starting a turf war?”

Maybe he did need to see that Betty was alive. But not just to make sure she was breathing. Maybe he needed to know why she left him at all. It wasn't hard to dissuade Cheryl from coming in the end. Everyone knew it was a suicide mission. She gave him Betty's approximate location and that was it. Jughead stowed his bike in the woods and started towards the camp. Most of the trailers were lit up. He knew that on the outer rim, the Ghoulie procedure was mixing and cutting Jingle Jangle. When he first met Betty, she never seemed to be very interested in Riverdale’s drug trade. It was a side hustle the Serpents had going. All Betty did was serve drinks at the Wyrm.

Even Jughead who was serpent by blood and would be in death had very little to do with muling. He enforced security as was his father’s prerogative. Betty’s change of heart gave him a sense of whiplash. She could be unpredictable at times, but he never knew her to make a deal with the devil. Jughead stalked between the dimmer trailers, the ones that didn’t seem to have many people in them. He heard the opening and closing of doors and hushed voices. The louder commotion was the center of the commune, where the bonfire was. He knew that ultimately he would end up there at Penny Peabody’s feet.

But until then, he had to try. He had to look at her just once.

Betty Cooper had impeccable timing. It was her labored breathing that he heard first. For a split second, he thought of Archie and how he held his side tenderly. How it sounded he had just run a marathon. When Jughead thought about seeing Betty again, he romanticized the thought, as he did most things. He thought it would be like the first time he saw her. An unfamiliar face in a crowd of his people. She had been a legacy in her own right. Alice was a serpent by birth, but Betty didn’t enter the fold until after high school. But when he saw her for the first time at the bar, he knew that she belonged. And without her there, it was like he didn't belong anymore. How quickly his status as serpent royalty was forgotten. By everyone.

Tonight wasn’t like that. When he saw her again, it was like a punch to the gut. And not in a good way like when they took stolen moments in the alley next to his bike. When she insisted on being called a warrior queen. When she let him push her against the wall of his trailer, hoisting her onto the counter.

This was different.

This was worse.

Jughead’s eye adjusted to the darkness he was able to find her face in the shadows. It looked okay at first. She wore a black leather jacket, her tousled hair brushing her collar. But the rest of her was wrong. Already he could tell her shoulder was dislocated, the angle her arm was hanging at. If they stepped into the light of the bonfire, he would have seen her facial bruising. But he didn’t want to see it. So he focused on her cut lip, the only thing he was able to process.

Her nails were digging into his arms as she pushed him closer to the trees. Her breath was hushed and threatening.

“What are you doing here?”

“Glad to see you too.” He immediately regretted coming.

She wasn’t even looking at him. She was throwing looks over her shoulder. Her fear was palpable, but it wasn’t stronger than Jughead’s stinging pride.

He wasn't even worth a glance to her.

“You should be at home.” Finally, her eyes met his. They were unsteady, flicking to every corner. Either she hadn’t been sleeping or she had been tasting the product. Either way, he didn’t like it.

He didn’t think his heart could break any more than it already did.

“Your concern is touching.”

She stilled at that comment. Her mania lessened and she was finally able to look at him for longer than five seconds at a time.

“Jug,” she said softly. Yes, this was definitely a mistake. He had underestimated the power she still had over him.

Nothing felt as good as this. Her nails retracted, but her hands didn’t leave his arms. Her body almost sank into his and he could finally smell her again. She was bleeding and dirty, but nothing was more familiar than the feel of her hair brushing against his neck. He shrugged off her grip. She let her hands fall back but didn't remove herself from him. He was already dizzy, wishing wildly that Cheryl had come with her bow and arrow.

He was so tired of feeling alone. He woke up in the hospital alone. His friends abandoned him. And now he was going to die in a Ghoulie junkyard. At least he probably wouldn’t be doing that alone.

“You have made it painfully evident that you don’t love me anymore,” Jughead said, mustering to get the words out. “But I am not going to let you throw your life away here."

He tried reaching for her to pull her towards his stowed bike. Betty’s body went slack. Her steps were measured as she took two paces back. He was glad he couldn’t read her expression in the dark.

“Why did you have to follow me?” she asked weakly.

The question was like a whip. “Are you _serious_ —” He didn’t get a chance to finish his indignant thought.

The Ghoulies had floodlights in their little camp. And suddenly Jughead could read Betty’s expression far too easily. He was blinded by the light, the image of her face burned into the back of his eyelids. Her face was wet and he could see the bruising more clearly now. He didn’t have any more time to contemplate it. He was thrown to the ground. Moments later he heard Betty’s grunt and she followed him into the dirt.

“If it isn’t the lovebirds.”

Jughead didn’t bother looking up. He had heard Penny Peabody’s voice enough to recognize the annoying cadence. She always had the gift of not knowing when to shut up. He felt the unmistakable pressure of a gun muzzle pressed against his spine and was sure Betty could feel the same against hers.

They were surrounded and there was no way of getting out of this.

“You know,” Penny said, her voice closer now, “when your girlfriend told me that you wouldn’t come for her, I almost believed it.”

Jughead glared at the ground, refusing to look up. If nothing else, Penny was addicted to the attention. He concentrated on the sound of her boots on the ground until he felt the steel of her knife graze his chin. He hated that look on her face. The one that made it clear she couldn’t be happier. Jughead couldn’t help but let his eyes slide over to the girl next to him. Her eyes were steely, trained on Penny. But tears had made tracks down the dirt on her face.

“If I’m being honest,” Penny said. “I thought about killing her and Red on sight. After your little accident, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that they just decided to tuck tail and join my operation.”

“Why would she do that?” Jughead had a fatal flaw, he knew. It would always get him into trouble and ultimately, it would probably bring the end for him. He always had to know. No matter what, the truth was the most important.

“You still don’t get it,” Penny said, “do you? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“What can I say,” Jughead replied. “I’m a slow learner.”

“I’ll say,” Penny said.

“Don’t stop now,” Jughead said. “Or are you going to get to the killing me portion of the evening anytime soon?"

“Oh, I don’t plan on killing you, Jughead,” Penny said. “That would be too good for you. I’m going to bleed you. And kill your girl in front of you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but she’s not my girl anymore.”

“So I guess I should just let her go, huh?” Penny asked sarcastically.

“You’d be hurting her for nothing,” Jughead said. Even now, he felt his protective instinct surge in him. “I’m sure you can’t be ignorant of the fact that she absconded here with my best friend.”

“That’s really what you think,” Penny said. “Isn’t it, Jones? You could be more grateful.”

Betty's eyes were full of fury, trained on the ground.

“Go on, Blondie,” Penny said. “Tell him. Won’t do you much good now, but at least he won’t hate you before you die.”

“Jughead,” Betty finally said, taking a deep breath. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” Penny asked. “The least you could do was tell him the truth.”

“I promise,” Betty said so low only he could hear. Even then, he wasn’t sure if he just imagined it. “I’m going to make this right.”

“How?”

“Yes, Betty,” Penny parroted back. “How will you make this okay? After I ran Jughead off the road, you immediately brought Red to me, saying that you were switching sides. Not only that, but Jughead was dead. That’s why you came all this way. And not to bother with the Serpents. Right? But look at what we have here. Not so dead, are you, Jones?”

Jughead felt like he was about to be sick. Every venomous thought and misconception curdled his stomach with regret. 

“Well, I think that’s sweet,” Penny continued. “I mean, full of shit. But sweet.”

Jughead leaned forward, his palms bracing the dirt. Shame burned across his face.

“But as soon as the serpent princess here showed up, I knew I had you. Either you were dead or you would burn villages to get her back. Even if she was messing around with Red. True love, right?”

Jughead made up his mind at that moment. He may die, but he was going to kill Penny Peabody. As if reading his mind, he felt a warm hand covering his. Green eyes peered right through him. He didn’t think he would feel that hand in his again.

“Are you done?” Jughead asked, directing his attention back to Penny. “Or did you want to talk some more?”

Finally, he and Penny Peabody agreed on something. A Ghoulie behind him brought a pistol to the back of his head. Graciously, Jughead was enveloped in blissful darkness. 

* * *

The artificial light hurt his eyes when he tried opening them. He knew that had a good deal to do with the lump growing quickly on the back of his head. Blood was sticky on the nape of his neck. He would probably need a new beanie.

He didn’t know why that thought seemed the grimmest.

“It’s okay.”

Jughead almost started. He thought he was alone. His eyes finally focused on the familiar surroundings of the interior of a trailer. It wasn’t the one he had grown up in, but it was familiar enough to give comfort. Despite the conspicuous drugs covering the counter. He struggled to sit up from his sprawling position on the couch. He couldn't tell how long he had been there but judging by the light outside, it was almost morning. Betty reached forward to brush the hair out of his eyes. He couldn’t help but shrink from her touch. Her hand dropped lifelessly to her lap. He didn’t know what was worse. The fact that he involuntarily reacted that way or the look in her eyes that told him she wasn’t surprised.

“We’re safe for now,” she said. “She won’t be back for a while. She usually sleeps pretty late.”

The fact that Betty knew Penny’s comings and goings was one of the strangest things he had heard tonight. And he had heard a lot.

“You would know.”

Betty always had a veneer of strength to her. But this was something else. She wasn’t just callused. A part of her seemed like she had disappeared altogether.

“I guess I would,” she responded.

But he couldn’t leave it alone. “So that’s it? You’re just a Ghoulie now?”

At that moment, she was her old self again. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Is that what you think?”

“You haven’t told me much of anything,” he said. “I have to hear this all from Penny Fucking Peabody? If it's even true.”

“If what’s true?” she asked, testing him.

He couldn't even broach the topic. The insinuation that maybe she had even a semblance of feeling for him still. It was too hard. “You can’t blame me for not trusting you right now.”

“That’s why you have to go,” she said. “The whole point was you never having to come back here. Toni was supposed to keep that from happening.”

“I hadn’t seen Toni until tonight.”

Betty retracted; her eyes filled with pain. “ _Why_?”

“Why do you think?” he asked. “I woke up alone. And you ran off with Archie.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Like it hurt her to even say it. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t follow. You were supposed to just… go on.”

Jughead laughed bitterly. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

“I was…” Betty struggled for words. “Optimistic.”

“Optimistic that I would just accept to never see you again?”

Betty shifted on the couch next to him, leaning forward, her elbows braced against her knees. She rested her forehead in her hand. The way she did when she was stressed. A part of him yearned to put a hand on her back. But they weren’t the same people anymore.

“No,” she finally said. “But I hoped you would.” She composed herself. She had always been eerily good at that. Shoving down every feeling until she convinced herself it didn't exist. She tried crossing her arms, seemingly forgetting her damaged shoulder. She winced grimly.

He pulled his legs from the couch, letting them drop to the floor so she could have room. He let himself the one weakness. He wouldn't reach for her, but he would give her the opportunity to.

"What happened?" he asked.

"They wanted you to come back," she said. "They were tired of waiting. They figured beating up Archie would be enough of a message to get you here. I almost thought that you really weren't going to show. I was trying to be strong."

Betty was the strongest person he knew.

"It was a couple of hours after that they figured maybe Archie wasn't enough," Betty finished. She gestured to her useless arm.

"Okay," he said, willing his head to stop spinning. The selfishness of this moment was too much. It felt too good to be here with her. Even if his best friend suffered for it. Betty had suffered for it. And no matter what Penny said, eventually, she was going to kill him. She was going to try. But he would live in this moment for at least a few more seconds. "Come here."

Betty looked at him doubtfully.

"I'm going to fix your arm," he said. "Come here."

He spread his arms so Betty could fit next to him.

"I used to do this for my dad," he said. "When he got back from a bar fight or two. It's going to hurt."

"I know," she said. 

He took the hand of her hurt arm. "I'm going to pull as hard as I can to pop it back in, okay?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

He grasped her hand firmly and pulled. She gasped as her shoulder popped back into place and fell against him. He didn't dissuade her. He let himself hold her for a few moments, her head resting against his chest.

He let himself have his moment. “I have no intention of letting you die here, Betty.”

“What about you?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Playing that one by ear.”

A smile threatened her lips. The moment died. There were slamming sounds of doors opening and closing. Loud voices sounded closer than he felt comfortable with. He felt adrenaline mainline through his veins. The things she must have done in this place.

He rose slowly to his feet.

“Jughead, wait,” she said urgently. She held her arm gingerly. He raised his hand, motioning her to stay still. “They want to torture you,” Betty reminded him.

As if he needed it. The door slammed open and Jughead rushed the door. It was a blur. All he could feel was the wet texture of blood as he slammed his fists into the Ghoulie's face. There came a point where he could have just been hitting bone. He stayed there, straddling the unconscious Ghoulie, swinging away.

“Jughead.” Her breath was in his ear. He couldn’t look at her until he felt her hands on his face, bringing his gaze to hers. “Come back.”

He looked down at his hands, covered in blood. Without hesitation, Betty reached for him, holding his hands in hers and pulling him up. 

“Get to the bike,” he said hurriedly. It took him a moment to realize they were still holding hands

He pulled her down the steps of the trailer. It was early morning and he doubted many Ghoulies were awake to see it. Betty was falling back, not able to keep up with his long strides. She caught her breath behind an identical trailer.

“I can’t go with you,” she said, breathless.

This unpredictable Betty was going to give him a heart attack.

“You’re coming.”

Her head tilted. He hated that pitying look on her face.

“You’re coming, Betty,” he said. “I don’t care if you never look at me the same way again. But you are getting through this and I am taking you home."

She was shaking her head vehemently.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “After everything, at the very least respect me enough to get you out of here.”

She stepped forward so fast he couldn’t stop her. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to. Her kiss was confident and sure. When she pulled away, she still had that sad look on her face.

“I could never stop loving you,” she said.

His stomach lurched at that.

“That’s why I can’t go with you,” Betty said. “Like you said. How could you trust me?”

“That is beside the point.” He knew he was being hypocritical. But if they were going to die, he was going to allow himself this much.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me,” she said. “But I can’t leave.”

He pressed her against the side of the trailer. She exhaled in surprise into his mouth. One hand gripped the back of the neck. He felt the throbbing pain of where the Ghoulie hit him last night. There was only one way both of them were getting out of this. It was a relief to know that he wouldn’t have to be without her again. Even if that meant they weren’t leaving this spot.

“What a coincidence,” he said. “Neither am I.”

The panicked yells were his first clue that they weren’t long for this world. The second clue was the unmistakable sounds of guns being loaded. Penny's angry shouts about finding him were echoing through the camp. As much as she enjoyed her posturing, Jughead was sure that Penny wouldn’t keep her promise to keep him alive. He was fine with that. Their motorcycles were revving up and he figured it was now or never.

He always expected that he would go out like this anyhow.

“Jug, whatever you’re thinking—”

It was too late. The second that Penny rounded the corner, Jughead sprang forward. He was lucky that Ghoulies weren't the type to stand their ground. Once they saw her go down, they scattered. Betty had a plan of her own. But then again, she always did. In a surge of fury, Penny had gotten the upper hand and pinned Jughead to the ground. At first, Jughead thought he hadn’t heard it right. That the pop was just his brain going haywire.

Penny’s blood sprayed over his face and her body slumped. Jughead was wildly impressed that Betty could hold that hand cannon, especially with a wounded shoulder. She had fired at the hip with a gun Jughead remembered seeing on the table in the trailer.

“I had to make it right, Jug.”

He wiped Penny’s blood gingerly from his face. He rose to his feet, making his way towards her. Her hand was shaking. He covered her fingers with his, taking the gun from her. He wiped it down before throwing it into the woods.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We’re taking you to the hospital,” he explained. He hoped his bike was still covered with the brush in the woods where he left it the night before.

“I know,” she said as they picked their way through the woods. Sirens were blaring through the morning light as they made their escape. “But what about after? I don’t think the Serpents are going to accept me back.”

Jughead hadn’t thought of that. She and Archie had made a very good show of running off together, just to sell the goods and make sure the Ghoulies had no reason to turn up in Riverdale. Jughead was relieved when he found the clump of leaves in the haphazard attempt to hide his motorcycle. He removed the branches.

“You’ll be with me,” Jughead said finally. He knew that had been true all along. As much as he tried to deny it. As much as he tried to hate her.

Betty helped him uncover the rest of the bike. “Yeah?” She was busy with her work, but he heard the vulnerability in her voice. When they were done, she had no reason not to look at him anymore.

“Of course,” he said. “Always.”

She took a deep breath. He was sure she didn’t have the cause to smile for a long time. He threw his leg over the seat and kicked the bike to life.

“Well?” he said. “Can you still hold on?”

She had the strength to hold up that gun. He was sure she could hold onto him as they rode back to town. This time she did smile. She climbed on the bike behind him, encircling her arms around his waist firmly.

“Always.”


End file.
